Power Corrupts
by TwoEvilGeniuses
Summary: Eight years after the Avatar killed Firelord Ozai, a beaten Azula escapes into the new world ruled by the war's heroes. But in the midst of spreading "peace", just who is the villain...and who is fighting for good? -Canon pairings-
1. Prologue

In the rumors, there were three levels of troublemakers.

If you happened to do something bad, you were sent before Firelord Zuko. When you came back, you could never remember what you had done wrong. Everyone who'd been forced to pay Firelord Zuko a visit would always come back believing in him fully.

If you were sent to Firelord Zuko, you were brainwashed.

If you somehow managed to return back to rebellion after your brainwashing, you were sent before Lady Katara. Everyone who was sent to Lady Katara would come back twitching, like their veins were being pulled by invisible strings. They warned of horror stories—of how if you put up a fight, your body turned against you at her will. It was brainwashing, but with pain as the incentive to change. And you _always_ wanted to change, if only to be rid of the suffering.

If you were sent to Lady Katara, you were tortured.

If after all this you still had the guts, nay, the _stupidity_ to continue turning against the government, you were sent before Avatar Aang.

No one was really sure what Avatar Aang did to you, as very few people had been radical enough to be put under his care…and even fewer of that number had returned. But of those that did, all had one thing in common: after seeing Avatar Aang, none ever spoke again. Of revolution, of how they'd been tortured, of their sentences, of what Avatar Aang even _looked_ like. After their session, not one word escaped their throats.

Like the very air had been sucked out of them.

If you were sent to Avatar Aang, you lost everything—including your will to fight.

But they were only rumors…weren't they?

Everyone was afraid to find out the answer to that question. So Firelord Zuko and Lady Katara and Avatar Aang didn't have to waste much time dealing with troublemakers.


	2. Chapter One: Celebration

It was dark.

It was always dark.

The perfect setting for an escape…one that no one would expect, and she couldn't hide the smirk as she peeked through the bars of her cell. They would be coming soon, the guards with her meal… and due to the darkness, they would not notice her lack of bindings. She ran a finger over the raw skin; the cuffs had done a number, but the pain was tolerable. Freedom was worth it.

Boots echoed in the distance, low grumbles following. _Her chance._

A loud _clank_, and the door swung open. "Here's your gruel, oh mighty _princess_," one man dared to announce through a scowl.

With one swift movement, she was up and had drawn her own chains around his knees and her gag over his mouth. The other man noticed nothing but the slight scuffle. She quickly reached around him, hitting the pressure point perfectly (how lucky she was to remember the time Ty Lee had shown her those). The sound of his collapse almost made her laugh.

She could not help it. "Sorry, but I believe I've outstayed my welcome," she crooned, shutting the door with a quick swing and racing down the dank hall, the adrenaline coursing through her the only thing keeping her going.

A cough, just around the corner. She pressed her back to the slimy wall, holding her breath and peeking ever so slightly. One guard—a boy. Easy to take down, and little for him to do. Where was the challenge she'd imagined in the long, boring days of her imprisonment? This was mere child's play.

Zuko gave her little credit.  


* * *

If red really was the color of good fortune, the Fire Nation was the luckiest land in the world.

The room (the entire palace, even) was bathed in scarlet hues. Combined with the ebbing and flowing of red-clothed officials, it seemed as if they had gathered in an enormous, beating heart.

However, looking closely, one would find that not everything was red; namely, the two people at the high table who were dressed in gold. The bride was on her husband's right, drumming her fingers impatiently on the table (and unconsciously causing Admiral Douchin's wine to spill over, the liquid sloshing over the cup's rim with every tap of her nails). The groom was all but staring off into space, one finger absently scaling up and down the back of his wife's neck.

"Zuko promised this would be 'a small, private affair,'" he grumbled, a hint of annoyance lined in his words.

The bride sighed in response and scanned the edges of the room yet again. Guards were stationed at every door, cutting out the option of an easy escape. Not that she was planning such a thing, but….

He leaned over to whisper in her ear: "If you want out that badly, I could always fake a poisoning."

She rolled her eyes. "What a stroke of luck then, that on his brush with death on his wedding night, the Avatar _happened_to marry a healer," she said, chuckling.

He grinned, brows raised ever so slightly. "A _very_ lucky Avatar, to have married such a very skilled and beautiful healer…."

She shivered as his finger continued its slow trail down from her hairline. She wished her collar wasn't halting its progress from traveling lower, over her shoulders, down her spine…

"May I offer my congratulations to Avatar Aang and Lady Katara." The man, bright green robes clashing awfully against the bloody sea of crimson, bowed low before the couple. Katara snapped out of her daydreams to stand with Aang and return the formal gesture (she swore she caught him smirk out of the corner of her eye).

"King Kuei," Aang greeted him. "Glad you could make it. How are things in Ba Sing Se?"

The man removed his spectacles, shining them on his sleeve. "Slightly better, I suppose," he said wearily. "The General's troops have improved things, but I do not think we can count on them for stability much longer. Many legions are being dispatched to handle the situation in Nanchu Forest."

_A wise choice, to leave Ba Sing Se with little enforcement and still recovering from the last uprising, while the King leaves to attend a_ wedding. _I swear, one of these days Aang should just put the _bear_ on the throne to see who would do a better job—_

"That's perfectly understandable, Your Highness. If you require more forces, do not hesitate to ask Firelord Zuko. He will gladly provide them."

"I know that, Avatar Aang. It's just…I don't think the people will trust them as allies, not after Kyoshi…" The silence that settled between them dripped of tension; and both parties averted their gazes.

_No Earth Kingdom citizen in their right mind would trust Fire Nation troops in the capital after Kyoshi.  
_  
Aang nodded stiffly. Katara took in a steady breath. It was her cue to take over, and she put a hand on the Earth King's shoulder.

"We are deeply saddened by the loss, Your Highness. Indeed, it was unnecessary and entirely avoidable." She glanced down the high table to the only empty chair. Had it been occupied, the guest's blue robes would have been spotted instantly within the heart-like room. She felt Aang's arm slip reassuringly around her waist.

"Sometimes…these things just get out of hand."

The Avatar was indeed very lucky: his wife, in addition to being a skilled healer, was also _quite_ the skilled liar.  


* * *

The cries of the suffering as she slinked down the halls made her wince.

It was odd, she thought, how what once brought her a sense of satisfaction now seemed to irritate her down to the core. Was that how _she'd_ sounded when they brought her to her knees? When they refused to feed her for days on end? Surely she had been stronger…yes, of course.

Metal scraped against the rocky ground as she opened the next door. Before her, a candle shivered lowly, nearing the end of its life. She glared at the fire, jealous of the flame it held, and clenched her fists. Fire no longer existed within her…a stolen piece of her. Without thinking, she brought a finger to the warmth; it singed her nails. Oh well. It was merely another burn; she no longer felt the need to count them.

Her ears perked as voices spoke quietly from down the hall. She didn't have time to linger. No time for memories. This place—she was sick of it.

She silently slid out of the room, eyes locked on the fire until she rounded the corner.  


* * *

"And then I told him, 'Of course we aren't going to give it back! The Water Tribes will not take it kindly—'"

Zuko nodded along with General Mung's long montage. It was only one of dozens he had struggled through that evening; it was merely natural for his officers to kiss-up, vying for the highest positions—as well as the certainty they would be safe from speculation on their loyalty to the Firelord.

When General Mung had finally moved on, he excused himself and sought out the servant carrying trays of dumplings from table to table.

"What a lovely banquet, my Lord."

"I assume the guests are enjoying themselves," Zuko muttered nonchalantly.

"Indeed." The man's sleeves just barely concealed the band of rocks around his wrist. He bowed, long braid swishing lazily along his back.

"And—" He took a dumpling, leaning casually over the tray so his whispered words were heard only by the servant. "—there are no signs of anyone planning to cause a disturbance here tonight, correct?"

"No, my Lord," the Dai Li agent informed him, voice quiet.

"Excellent," he replied in a normal tone, straightening. He popped another dumpling into his mouth. "These are _excellent_."

When at last he'd gotten a moment to himself, yet another captain found him, eager to share his latest account of putting down the rebellion in Jang Hui. But he wasn't in the mood (as was often the case), and quickly cut the man off.

"Is that so, Ronju? Well, submit a report to my records and I shall see what can be done. Perhaps a promotion…?" He scanned the crowd, not noticing the way the man's face lit up at the suggestion. He _had_ to get away. "Ah, Captain, have you seen Lady Mai? I've been meaning to commend her on the fine decorations tonight."

"Of course, sir." They were always, _always_ looking to please him. It was nearly sickening. "She's near that pillar over there—"

"—Thank you." The throngs of people parted for him almost automatically; he didn't need to push his way through. The way it should be. "You look like you're having fun."

She didn't even look at him. "Oh, I'm quite thrilled, I'll have you know. I get to stand and greet hundreds of people—all of whom I know little about—who are one step away from kissing my feet. They seem intent on boring me to death as they drill personal stories that, more often than not, seem to end with their triumph over rebels. Honestly, why don't they just drop to their knees and beg, 'Please don't let your husband banish me,' instead? It would make my life much easier."

He smiled apologetically, reaching out and brushing her bangs. "Toph sent her regrets. I think the actual letter went something along the lines of, 'Why do they have to put up a damn fight when I could be getting drunk and undermining Sugar Queen? Just wait until I get my hands on those tree-rats. The best to the blushing couple.'"

A snort was her response, to which she quickly attempted to collect herself. "Personally, I'd rather be putting down radicals in Nanchu than being on newlywed patrol. They've been giving me dark looks all night. The sooner the honeymoon, the better."

Zuko had to agree. Aang had mastered the kind of glare that burned guilt.

Mai sighed. "Well, now you'll have to excuse me. Ty Lee is getting a little_ too_ comfortable with the Earth Kingdom Ambassador over there."

"I'm sorry," he murmured as he ran one hand down her back. "You've been great at handling all of this. I'll make it up to you."

Mai only rolled her eyes and playfully batted his hand away. "I believe _someone_ has to keep everybody's hands to themselves. Is the wedding night atmosphere infectious or something?" Leaving him chuckling, she swept off in the direction of her friend (and the blushing man she was entertaining).  


* * *

It had been too easy, but she instantly berated herself for expecting anything more.

Azula ran through the darkness, led only by fogged memories of the last day she'd seen the outside the prison. Her breath was ragged. She was tiring quickly, thanks to the lacking meals and small space of her cell. Trees and rocks and houses passed by in a blur. She paid them no mind.

The capital was alight for a festival, the red glow in the distance catching her eye. She frowned. Celebrating for a world where there were no nations to conquer in the Fire Nation's glory and no firebending princesses to stand in the way of Zuko's dream of precious peace. So, this was peace, then? It didn't…_feel_ like she'd imagined it would: the air was tense.

Slowing to a stop, she hid behind a shed that smelled of ostrich-horse manure. Nose wrinkled, she scanned the area. A house to the right was dark, as were many in the vicinity; empty, with everyone out at whatever was taking place tonight. With a quick snort, she jogged toward the closest dwelling, hands reaching for the door before her. It slid open with ease.

"Idiots," she muttered under her breath. "You're making this much too simple."

There was no time to be subtle. In a flurry, she sought out a bedroom. Clothing was her priority. If she could blend in, she might last longer.

It had been so long. So long since she could run, breathe, _move_ unrestrained. And now she felt like she was wasting her time. She maneuvered around a mess of scrolls littering the hall and entered another room, quickly rifling through the residents' closet. The outfit she chose was rather plain, hues of gold and red—as was the norm of the Fire Nation—and the blood-red of it clashed with the sickly paleness of her skin. The sleeves were too short for her liking: she was able to view the scars on her arms. Her brows narrowed at the reminder of her time of weakness, and she vowed to never allow that to happen again. After tying a golden band around her waist, she adjusted her dark pants. They were big, but she would manage—she always did.

She wondered, faintly, if she should she look in the mirror hiding in the corner of the room. The face staring back at her would not be the "her" from the past. It would not be the young princess with a bright future and matchless talent. It would be a woman scorned and angry, yet alive at the feeling of being free for the first time in ages. Closing her eyes, she exited the room. Maybe later…

Azula moved about the house, filling a small sack she'd located with necessities (a few loaves of bread, silver and copper pieces that had been scattered around, an extra shirt, a blank scroll). She'd made sure to wash her face off, albeit quickly, and then left the way she'd come.  


* * *

"My Lord." There was the hushed, careful voice of the "dumpling servant" in his ear. "I'm sorry to report that the guards are experiencing trouble over in the High Prison."

"What?"

"It appears a prisoner has escaped."

His eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. "Who?"

The agent hesitated. He had a feeling the Firelord would not like the answer.  


* * *

In the shadows she moved, feet barely touching the dirt path below her. She had to get away from here before she was recognized (a part of her mind scoffed; the disgraced princess—why would the people keep her face in their memories?). It was almost unbearable…

Her mind lost in thought, she somehow managed to make it to the nearest dock. A small group stood near the ticket window. Her hands reached up to her hair, fussing with it and the knots that she hadn't noticed earlier (did she look normal? Or too much like a recently-escaped madwoman?). Crossing her arms, she kept on alert and walked as calmly as she could toward the booth.

"Where to, Missy?" an elderly man questioned, his grin nowhere near genuine.

Oh, how she wanted to say "Anywhere." With a false smile that fell short of reaching her eyes, she replied, "There wouldn't happen to be any boats leaving for the Earth Kingdom soon, would there?"

He tapped his chin. "Well, there _is_ one…but it's a on a trade route. Makes a lot of stops along the way, mainly at the towns along the coast—and if you want to get to someplace big like Ba Sing Se, you'll need to take a ferry at Full-Moon Bay."

Shrugging, she said, "That sounds fine. I'm in no hurry."

As she paid for her pass and started for the ship, she cast one last glance out at the capital. It was so red…so beautifully red.

She wondered vaguely how much blood had been spilled…to make it such a lovely shade.  


* * *

One minute, she was standing (rather bored, mind you) next to Aang while minister Li-something or another went on and on about taxes; the next, she was being dragged roughly by the elbow down an empty hallway used mostly by the servants. When her attacker finally brought her to a jerking stop, she spun around, not to an assassin, but a very familiar face.

"_Goodness,_ Zuko!" Katara exclaimed. Immediately after, she sighed. "I half expected a knife in my heart! And did you really have to pull so hard?"

"There is a…problem."

She frowned. There shouldn't be problems, not tonight. Not when everything, save for the tedious talks with officials, was going so wonderfully.

"There's been a breakout at the High Prison. Two guards were found unconscious…in Azula's cell."

She could find no words. Instead, her hands did the talking for her, clenching and unclenching in a mad effort to keep her temper under control (and accidentally making a captain's wife plunge her face into her own soup). Zuko noticed and was careful to keep himself calm. He continued.

"They've blocked all exits and are searching for her now. She can't have gotten far, she can't even bend—"

"—And yet she managed to fight her way out of the High Prison."

Zuko swallowed hard. His eyes shifted away from her wild gaze. "I'll dispatch a search party. She can't leave the Fire Nation; everybody will recognize the half-crazed Princess. If anyone happened to think it was a smart idea to hide her, well," he paused and drew his face into a stern look, "I'll convince the public otherwise."

"Fine, fine, whatever," she spat, flexing her hands again. _Of all the nights to have frayed nerves._ "Just—" She glanced to the door to which they'd come through. "--don't let Aang know, alright? Report progress to me…and me, alone. See if you can get her back without getting him involved. He…has enough issues to worry about."

Zuko put his hands up in irritation. "Not this again, Katara. We can't keep everything from him just because you worry. What if it gets out of hand? What if—"

"Do you expect it to, Zuko? A half-crazed, non-bender who _happened _to push her way out of prison. Do you_ really_ expect it to be difficult? The mighty Firelord, with the world at his feet, can't find his missing sister without the Avatar's help?"

She knew all the right chords to hit. Zuko's glare could have melted the gold-encrusted walls.

"Fine. He won't hear of it."

She nodded and marched her way back to the ballroom. It was easy to slip through the crowds and back to Aang's side, where he merely noted her absence with a raised brow. She kissed him on the cheek ("It's nothing, I promise.") and stored the new information in the back of her mind.

Tonight, Azula was the last thing she wanted to think about.


	3. Chapter Two: The Other War

It was a slow and steady cycle: sail, dock. Sail, dock. Sail, dock. Repeat and repeat and repeat until the wild rocking of the ship doesn't make you retch anymore.

This process took a while for Azula to become accustomed to; she might have had sea legs at fifteen, but spending eight years in a cell the size of a common closet can have a dangerous effect on your equilibrium. After docking at their first stop about one week at sea, the first thing she did was thank the Spirits for creating solid land.

The second thing she did was seek out a market, where a of few copper pieces she'd snuck out of an unknowing pedestrian's pocket paid for a fitting tunic and pants. And with no money left, she resorted to "walking off" with a pair of matching cuffs. At a small stream she came across, she traded her old stolen goods for her new ones.

She examined herself in the running water, being careful to avoid the image before her. The eyes alone would tell her more than she wanted to know. The outfit was plain—colored in shades of muddy brown. The scars on her wrists were covered, and for now she could easily pretend that they were not there. She looked every part the average traveler.

"Hello," she greeted the blurred visage in the water. "I'm…Cho. Yes, Cho. Just sailing around the Earth Kingdom. I've _always_ wanted to see the world." The magnitude of her fake smile felt almost painful. But they wouldn't know. They'd believe her, believe her down to the last word….

After all, she was good at lying. To others. To herself.

* * *

She didn't like the village of Makapu. The small town sat in the shadow of the volcano of its namesake, cradled in hardened lava from a previous eruption like a turtleduckling in its eggshell. It was rather eerie, she noticed, shivering at the sense of foreboding that washed over her. The setting reminded her entirely too much of the Capital City.

However, the people were far from the festival-attending Fire Nation citizens. Everyone hurried about, speaking in hushed whispers and glancing nervously at her and the other travelers as they excited the ship. She heard some of the crew talking about it later when they boarded again.

"They're always paranoid, the poor folks. They say that prophet panicked them all, babbling about Kyoshi and the rebellions years before they happened. Ha, the Avatar didn't have to impose here—the people were scared stiff already."

Earlier that day, Azula had seen the so-called prophet: an old woman in fading robes, overdone make-up, and her hairpiece askew. She would have completely ignored her if she hadn't seen the townspeople's reactions to her. They bowed in the streets as she passed, reverent looks on their faces. When the old woman hobbled up onto a worn pedestal, _everyone_ gathered around.

"Do not mourn in the times of fear and hiding! Our hope, our savior, is coming!" she wheezed. There were wild cheers from the crowd. Azula was shocked. These people had only moments before looked at her as if she were posed to bite (though, in all reality, she was close to it), and now a few words from some windbag had them smiling like fools?

"Yes, _yes_, my children! I have witnessed the realms of what is to come! The savior is coming—now, closer than ever! We will be lifted up from this chained and accursed world, and the Earth Kingdom shall walk free at long last!" The old woman raised her arms in the air, the crowd following and shouting with her.

"The enemy's armies will fall! Our torturers will feel our pain! The Firelord will burn! The Avatar will be brought to his knees!"

_I thought the_ Avatar _was supposed to be your 'precious savior,'_ Azula thought, annoyed and slightly bewildered. When the woman next to her looked at her strangely, she realized only too late that she had spoken the thought aloud.

"Our _savior?_ Far from it," she hissed, long hair bobbing. She looked Azula up and down, eyes narrowing on her dirty clothes and worn shoes. "You're not from around here, are you? Tell me, how many men from your village lost their lives in the Century War? We deserved reparations, and yet our noble veterans are being tortured for speaking out. You at least have heard of the torture…haven't you?"

_Your husband has the biggest ears I've ever seen,_ she really wanted to spit into the woman's face. She took in a breath and instead glanced at the ground. Perhaps she was trying to play the role of the "innocent, unknowing woman," but it felt too easy to wear that mask…

"I don't know what you're talking about," Azula managed evenly. "_I_ fought in the Century War, and the Avatar can vouch for me on that one."

The woman looked confused for a moment, then hardened her face again. "What does it matter? The people close to the Avatar are all the same: they could care less about anyone other than themselves."

"And your _savior_ will fix that, right?" she mocked. Her hands flew to her hips, a sign of annoyance and superiority. Sniffing, she continued: "How, might I ask? _Spirit_ magic? The same mighty powers that crazy hag up there rants about having?"

The woman fixed her with a steely glare. "Aunt Wu is _never_ wrong." With a snort, she and her large-eared husband shifted away, disappearing in the large crowd. The "prophet's" voice sounded louder.

"And the savior will instate a new era upon the world, a time of freedom and safety! Now, now, closer than ever!_ Do not lose hope!_"

And with that, the old woman stepped down, and the villagers resumed their harried scurrying.

"_Prophet_," the sailor scoffed, and Azula returned her thoughts to the present. The man glanced at her, picking at his ear, and shrugged. "Aunt Wu's just a crazy old wolfbat, if you ask me. S'what the Avatar must think, too. I'm not surprised she hasn't paid Firelord Zuko a visit. Already brainwashed enough. And Makapu's just as insane as she is. _The savior._" His companion snorted.

Two mentions in one day. She wondered what, exactly, Zuko had been doing with his crown that would have his name feared and scorned by a nation miles away (and he'd fought her tooth and nail for it). It sounded nothing like the Zuko she'd known most of her life.

She wondered if he (could he?) _wanted_ it that way

* * *

One day, Azula noticed they were heading southeast.

Now, while most citizens of the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom might not recognize their old conqueror, she could think of more than a few faces from a certain southeast island that would place her on the spot. There would be no friendly faces, certainly; not from former enemies and prisoners.

She worked up the courage to speak to the captain, keeping to her role of the nervous traveler. She had to have a backup plan if the stop was unavoidable. "Pardon me, but I noticed our heading… and was just wondering if perhaps we're going to Kyoshi?"

He stared blankly at her. "_Kyoshi?!_ Of course we won't be going to Kyoshi!" Upon seeing her perplexed expression, he frowned. "Don't you—don't you _know?_"

_Well obviously_ not, she bit back. Azula chuckled and dug her nails into her arm, an explanation spilling from her lips. "I'm, uh, from the Northern Provinces. As they say, news travels slower past the mountains than a camelephant underwater! Heh heh…"

"I see…," the man said with a shrug. "We're not stopping at Kyoshi because, well, there _is_ no Kyoshi."

Azula wanted very much to tell him to stop the euphemisms, seeing as they were adding to the spinning pressure on her head. Instead, she let out a soft sigh. "By that, you mean…?"

He shook his head sadly. "The whole island was burned to the ground."

The ship chose that moment to roll rather violently, forcing Azula to grab the railing for support while the experienced captain merely shifted his weight with the waves. She grumbled, trying to realign her stomach.

"Almost a year ago, now. They say the Kyoshi Warriors were undertaking in…," he trailed off, grimacing, "…rebel activities. I hear they never totally trusted the Fire Nation, even with Avatar Aang's influence. Now, personally, I think it was under Avatar Aang's influence that they distrusted the Fire Nation so much, but…." He shook his head again. "One night, a few Fire Nation ships docked at the island. The Warriors attacked and took them hostage, accusing them of carrying out the Avatar's plot to silence them. The crews had no choice but to defend themselves, you see. The blaze got out of hand before anyone could help, before anything could be done. There were no survivors."

She was silent for a moment, her stomach churning—but only partly from the seasickness. "_None?_ Not even the Warriors?"

"Like I said, the whole island. Razed to the very earth Kyoshi built it on."

At that, he left Azula to the swaying sea and her pitching thoughts.

* * *

The need for a doctor arose, much to her distaste, as a crewmember's coughs grew louder. The boat had to make a stop at an unnamed village. The people here watched them with greedy eyes—eyes that would quickly swipe every coin under your name if you weren't careful. She knew this game; and could easily return their challenge.

A balding man was running the only food vender, prices all much too high for it to be legal. No wonder the villagers looked desperate to steal anything they could.

"Come, come, travelers!" he cried, extending his hands to those descending from the ship. "I've the best stock around, with the ripest fruit and the crispest vegetables. Looking for jerky to last the long sail? Or perhaps clean water to quench your thirst? Step closer, dear friends, I have all you need!"

Azula snorted and walked down the dirt path, past the babbling idiot. She had enough to last her until the next stop. Her money was not worthy of his produce.

As she shuffled along, taking in the beaten huts and wind-torn trees, she realized that she was being followed. The shadow trailed hers, most likely a few steps behind her. She grunted and turned into an alley, spinning quickly to catch her stalker off-guard.

"A-ah!" A boy, blue eyes wide, bumped into her, clearly not expecting the change. He looked up at her, then trembled. "G-give me your money, lady."

A laugh made its way to her lips. "My money, you say?" she said, unable to hide her amusement. "Is this how you make a living, boy? Demanding another's money? Because that will only give you so many years."

"I…I usually plead," he whimpered. "Stealing is wrong. I don't want to be taken to The Boiling Rock—my dad was sent there, and now I have to take care of Momma and Kino…"

Azula frowned and sighed. "There is a certain skill to stealing," she explained. "Pleading makes you weak. Do you wish to be weak?" He shook his head. An eyeroll later, she was leading him to the market. The boastful seller had more than a few things to offer.

Whispering in the child's ear, she elaborated, "There are a few tricks. You must keep close watch on all eyes in the area. See that they are not focused on you. Blend into the background, as they say. You must be quick, snatching before those eyes can notice. Do not act suspicious." The boy nodded, attempting to look serious. "See that red apple there? Bring it to me."

Within minutes, the boy was bounding back to her, a toothy grin on his face. "Lady, lady!" he yelped softly, "I did what you said and I got it!"

She tried to look disinterested. "Yes, I knew it would. It's what I follow, and it has never failed me before."

"Thanks, lady," he said, bowing. "You're a nice person, even though stealing is still bad." Seconds later, he was running off, brandishing his spoils.

Azula watched him go, lips set in a frown. _Nice_? She merely hated bearing witness to such a failure. Nothing more. A grunt, then she meandered back toward the dock.

For some reason, she was beginning to feel ill… even though she was off of the ship.

* * *

In her absence, ruined cities had sprung back to life like lilies after a rainy day.

The small fishing village of Ping Kin (_the people didn't even put up a fight, just bowed down as her armies marched through_) was a bustling trade center, markets along the docks all haggling for the freshest catch. Pohuai (_the crown jewel of the Navy's bases, an impenetrable fortress_) was a popular vacation spot, overcrowded with the families of wealthy officials vying for the best spot of beach. Taku (_ancient buildings, cracked and rotting and stained with ash_) was lined with green terraces, students from the Institute strolling along to study vines and berries.

The empire of her great-grandfather, reclaimed by its original settlers.

She also noticed that all of these worthless towns had something common: a large stone pillar, usually set in the center of the social hub, bearing a single inscription:

_The Nations Of The World, United Under The Spirits And The Avatar._

"Modest, aren't we?" she growled, kicking a cloud of dust at it when no one was looking. It wasn't fair. It should be _her father's_ statue standing there. It should be _her_ image painted alongside his in the Royal Gallery. Instead, Zuko plundered away within the kingdom generations had worked so hard to attain, and the Avatar was at some fancy party in his honor; each with her traitor of a best friend and the peasant girl hanging off their arms.

In a small act of retaliation, one night Azula pushed the pillar over (it took a while and a lot of effort, but the satisfaction of the small act of vandalism was worth it).

The next day, the village was in uproar.

"Who did it?"

"Did you notice anything?"

"Why did they…?"

"What will happen to us?"

"What should we do?"

"Will we get in trouble?"

Before long, a group converged together and pushed it back upright, issuing a sigh of relief through the place. Gaggles of old women and stern-faced men and wide-eyed children, still gathered, began a new slew of statements. These were louder.

"Thank goodness!"

"Can you just imagine it, if the troops came through and found it that way?"

"The last thing we need is to be singled out. Restrictions get tighter every day."

United, indeed.

* * *

They docked at a small port once to stock up on supplies and fix an engine. Azula spent the day wandering through the streets, snitching a few spare coins and some fruit (it was a better lunch than the food the ship provided). It was, all in all, a rather productive day for her.

Suddenly, all went silent on the docks as ten soldiers in full armor paraded through, leading a long line of chained prisoners: a pathetic-looking lot, adorned in tattered clothing. They were a mix of men and a few women, of different heights and builds, but all wearing the same expression of determined defiance. Whispers went around as the line passed through.

_The revolutionaries, from the Nanchu Forest. _

_Called themselves some gang name, I hear. _

_They said they would purge the Earth Kingdom of the Avatar's ways. _

_Held the area for twelve days, under full siege. _

_Shot at the armies from the trees, and couldn't be reached with earthbending. _

_All non-benders._

_The General was sent in—no chance after that._

_All of them captured, except for the leaders. _

_They escaped, hunts going on now. _

_The rest to be sent to The Boiling Rock. _

_The leaders will get Avatar Aang—at worst._

_Stupid. _

_They fought. _

_They won _nothing_._

As the procession made its way toward the nearest warship, and as the soldiers and captives disappeared into the iron ship bound for the Fire Nation, she couldn't help but feel slightly awed. A force of non-benders, and yet they'd held an entire forest for twelve days. If they had been any good, none would have gotten caught, but…still.

Azula flicked her hand, lighting an imaginary flame. It glowed in her dulled gaze as she lost herself in her thoughts. If _she'd_ been the one sent in, it would've been the rebels' downfall. They would have felt her wrath, felt her fire.

If she'd won.

But she hadn't. Her hands no longer held fire, or guided lightning (oh, how she missed lightning). The flame in her hand faded to the nothing it had always been. Where there used to be the heat of battle, there was…

What? What was left? Emptiness? No. She stood taller. She was not empty, though they had tried. Zuko and the Avatar could not drain her completely. Perchance it was her stubbornness that allowed her to survive so long…to gain clarity on everything. She was tired and weary and confused, but she would never let them make her empty.

The image of the captured rebels' faces entered her mind. So clearly beaten, and yet still fighting.

She wondered if there were different kinds of fire.

* * *

Sleep was difficult, and even when she'd become used to the stops and starts of the boat, she found it difficult to rest her eyes. So much had happened in the world, and she hated knowing so little of it. She felt at a disadvantage. Knowing not what the rest of the world knew.

The Avatar was spreading his ways, his ideals, but it was not a "peaceful" process. Force was used—instilling fear in those who had once believed. His intentions were hard to decipher, other than his intent on "uniting the nations."

What surprised her more was the fear dear Zuzu's name brought to the eyes of the villagers. Had he not been docile? Rambling of peace and prosperity and freedom? Why had he helped take down their father, when in the end, his name had become just as feared? Perhaps…she just hadn't been able to notice.

Her mind drifted to her days in the cold cell. To the moldy air and the cuffs (those cursed cuffs) that tore at her skin.

"_You're nothing now, not a princess, not a fighter. You're just a sad excuse, rotting in the corner because the Firelord, for some reason, decided to take pity on you."_

They were right, really. She was merely a shadow of her former self. But at the same time, she felt stronger—like the Nanchu rebels, she knew she was strong despite her current situation.

She just had no idea where to begin. What to feel. How to act.

What was it that defined her now? Not a princess, not a fighter, not even the common traveler everyone took her for. _An outsider,_ Azula realized.

Sleep eluded her that night, as well.

* * *

The last day of sailing brought the ship to a port on Setting-Sun Lake. Azula disembarked (for the last time, thank all the Spirits) with a rucksack filled with more than she needed and the clothes on her back. Glancing around the dimly lit dock, she sighed.

…Now what?

"Where are you headed?" The voice from behind made her snap to attention, but she turned around only to see the captain. He offered her his crooked smile and scratched his neck.

"Going for provisions," he explained as he gestured to several members of the crew behind him, carrying the large buckets used for storing water. "Don't you have anyone waiting for you, miss?"

_Miss…?_ Since when was she labeled as such? "Actually…no, sir. My family is unable to travel, so I am heading out to meet them. In—" _Think of a place, any place._ "—Ba Sing Se."

The man's face brightened. "Oh, really? I have some cousins there." He frowned slightly. "But you're in the wrong place. You'll want to take the ferry they have, on the other side of the Serpent's Pass. That's the quickest way to the city." He pointed to a road in the distance. "So just follow that for a bit, and you'll be at Full Moon Bay in no time."

"I understand." The smile didn't hurt so much this time. Maybe because she hadn't lied, or at least, not completely. She had a destination. She had a cover. No one would suspect her, not at all.

She was _free._

"Well, be on your way, then." The captain bowed to her. "…and take care, miss."

She returned the bow. Her hair, not as unkempt as it had been weeks before, brushed across her shoulders. "I will." She had little choice to do otherwise.

Azula turned to the road and then looked over her shoulder, giving the man once last glance. She smiled. A real smile.

"Thank you."

She meant it.


	4. Chapter Three: Dwelling on the Past

_Her smile was bright._

_She leaned against the wooden railing, watching the sunset. "I love it here," she whispered. "It's just so beautiful."_

"_It is," he found himself agreeing as he snaked an arm around her. Blue eyes looked out at the splashes of red and gold and purple painting the sky._

"_You know what makes it better?" he asked after a moment. The grin on his face was playful as he pulled her close._

_Brows raised almost teasingly, she waited for him to continue._

_He_ _bent down and placed a lingering kiss on her lips. "Being here with you."_

_——  
_

Mourning had gotten him nowhere. It had only brought more despair.

The South Pole was more miserable than he remembered, home to the glaring wind that pierced through even the thickest furs and the bitter starless sky that threatened to smother every fire.

But it was far better than the apartment in Ba Sing Se (haunted by guilt, guilt, guilt), or the Palace in the Fire Nation (with his friends just feeling sorry, sorry, sorry). He'd rather be with his father. He liked to think he was keeping the aging man company, rather than the opposite.

And it was rather ironic, he realized with some thought. _My mother died; my father went to war. My wife dies; I come back home._

He knew everyone was worried. His father's fake smiles and kind words were easy to read. They merely made him crawl deeper into his pain. Couldn't they tell that he wanted to be alone?

"Sokka, can we talk?"

He looked up. "Yeah, Dad?"

"I know you've been…having a hard time…"

He looked back down. "Dad, not now, I don't want to—"

"—I know a bit how you feel. Like you should have been there. Like you could have saved her, or if not, died with her," his father sighed, scratching his chin. "That's how I felt…when your mother died."

He merely nodded. Why was it so hard for them? To just leave him be?

"Sokka I think…I think you should try to cope. Somehow. For me, traveling helped. It took my mind off your mom and gave me something to do."

He considered this. Maybe it _would_ help. He could get out. He felt smothered, surrounded by those he cared about.

His father smiled hopefully. "You could visit Katara in the Fire Nation."

"_You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you?" When did her eyes become so sharp? They bore into him, almost as though she were waiting for him to confess something he wasn't quite sure on himself._

He grunted. _Absolutely not. _

"Or the Earth Kingdom. You could visit your friend, that girl in Ba Sing Se."

"_Of course it wasn't planned! The Dai Li wouldn't go—" Her eyes widened suddenly. "Never mind."_

It was a clue. A small, nearly missed clue that held a million different meanings.

But it was a clue, nonetheless.

He paused, and shifted in his chair. His father waited, looking half hopeful and half anxious.

"Yeah. Maybe I'll go…and visit Toph."

——

So there he was, the cold sea breeze mussing his stringy hair and tickling under his neck.

He sighed, eyes half-closed as he stared out at both everything and nothing. Ice, ice, water, and more ice. The boat was far too slow; he had hoped there would be green lining his sight by now. His surroundings were still too familiar. Grunting, he shifted his weight to his other leg.

The wind easily shot through his thin clothes. He knew he owned enough gold to buy warmer things, or to have the rips in his old clothes repaired, but he didn't want to use it. It was his small rebuttal, choosing tatters over silks. He'd rather be a stranger to strangers, than for strangers to know him.

If he wanted, he could be as well known as the rest of them. He could use his simple title to get himself whatever he wanted; nobody refused a close ally to the Avatar and the Firelord and who many thought a shoe-in for the Earth King.

But he distanced himself from them. They sat atop their glory, spreading peace throughout the world…and he was left behind, a broken tool. That was what he'd felt like, spending all those quiet days at the Southern Water Tribe, whittling wood into nothing but splinters.

"_You should get some sleep, Sokka…."_

He turned his blue eyes, still dull, toward the voice. Pale red lips smiled at him. "Wha—Suki?" he whispered. It couldn't be. Rubbing his eye, he stared at her.

Her. Standing right next to him. Smiling._ There._

Tentatively, he reached out a hand. She smiled wider, moving closer. He shook as his fingers approached her cheek—

—and stroked empty air.

"I said, you need to get some sleep, lad. We'll be in warmer land by morning." The captain gave him one last confused look before shuffling toward the bow of the small ship.

Sleep…? Unlikely, he thought as he closed his still-trembling hand.

Both his dreams and his nightmare (and now the moments when he was awake) were filled nothing but her.

——

_Groaning, he awoke to her frowning profile._

"_Suki…?" he whispered, stretching. He meant to ask if anything was wrong, but all he could muster was a sleep-laden yawn._

"_Do you ever find yourself thinking that something is still wrong with the world?"_

_He raised a brow. "What do you mean? We ended the war—"_

"_Sokka," she muttered. There was a tone running down her bare back soothingly. "Did you really expect everything to be perfect right away?_

_Her eyes widened, and she whispered a soft apology. "Did I wake you…?" Leaning over, her pale skin glowing in the light of the bedside candle, she brushed the hair from his eyes. "I was just thinking about some things…."_

"_Like what? You looked kind of upset."_

_Frowning again, she bit her lip. Sokka watched her carefully. He'd only seen her like that on a rare occasion, and it usually meant she was planning to hide it. "It's okay," he told her gently, sitting up and taking one of her hands. "You don't have to talk—"_

"_Don't forget that there are still people out there who believe in a different kind of world—"_

"—_Those are rebels. And they cause more problems than they fix."_

_Suki looked away for a moment. He watched as doubt and fear and determination flashed across her face…and the he gasped as she shoved him down to the bed. "Maybe you're right," she muttered, crawling over him and leaning down. Her lips brushed his, and he shivered. "Maybe peace will take a little more time."_

_He had no idea what she meant at that time, and he found he cared little as her hands and lips took over._

——

One day, a letter came from his father. A short note about his sister's wedding.

He had completely forgotten.

He had never spoken with Aang about it: when he arrived at the Capital City months ago after leaving Toph, he was already away in the Earth Kingdom. Like they had switched places.

——

"_He has things to sort out with the reports," Katara sighed to him. "They're trying to put together a complete account. And Zuko left for Ba Sing Se yesterday, to meet with the King."_

_He nodded stiffly, attempting to reassure her he was not going to die anytime soon. He doubted his baggy eyes and sharp features accomplished that._

_And she noticed immediately._

"_Sokka, are you alright?"_

_What kind of question was that? "I'm fine, Katara."_

"_You look sick."_

"_Just caught a cold on the way here. I'm fine, really."_

_She frowned. "I can tell that's not true." She caught his wrist and pressed her fingers to the veins, then felt the temperature of his forehead, and forced his jaw down to peer at his tongue. "Have you been eating?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Have you been eating _well?_"_

_He sighed, knowing it was useless to lie again, and let her continue checking his blood pressure and chi flow. The same old Katara: if she was wearing Mom's necklace, she was always so—_

"_Hey!" He stepped out of her reach. "Why aren't you wearing Mom's necklace?"_

_Her face darkened a shade, and she fingered the band at her neck, the band Sokka had never seen her wear before._

"_I—well—it's…" she smiled slightly. "Aang asked me to marry him."_

_He stared at her._

"_I said yes."_

_Smile, idiot, smile. She's your sister, be happy, c'mon.__ "That's great, Katara! I'm glad." His face felt like it would crack and break off. She's your sister, you should be happy, you should be…_

"_Sokka…I can tell that's not true."_

_——  
_

She had pleaded with him to come. Told him it would take his mind off things. She wanted him to be there. She was worried crazy about him.

He had told her he'd try to make it.

And the next day he'd left, blindly letting his feet take him _somewhere_ (his mind was too dead to decide where to go). He'd found himself again on Kyoshi…sitting where their house had been. The house he'd slaved away building. The one with the big yard, for the kids they'd planned on having one day. The one with the splash of yellow paint on a corner, where Suki had pounced on him so as to give him a kiss. The one where he'd planned to live out his life. With her.

"_Isn't it funny how Aang and Katara are so much alike, Sokka?" He detected a slightly sour tone in her voice. "That they'd do anything for each other. Anything."_

_He turned her around to face him. "Why is it funny? I'd do the same for you."_

He thought it unfair. Why were they allowed happiness? His sister, happy and carefree and mindlessly _in love_ with whom he considered his very best friend. People he had trusted with and risked his own life for. How could they walk around, saying they felt sorry?

They knew nothing of pain.

——

"Suki," he sighed. "For the last time—"

_"They're liars. They're lying."_

"They're not lying! At least, I don't…think…"

_"Exactly. What did Toph say?"_

He frowned. "It might not even mean anything. I was unbelievably drunk, she might not even have said it. I could've misheard, or imagined it."

_"Sokka, I_ know _you. You heard what you heard. But it's up to you to believe it. They're lying."_

He buried his head in his knees, but the ship took a violent turn and shook him out of the position.

"Eh, sir?" He looked up, greasy hair scattered in his eyes.

"What?" he growled at the crewman. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"It looked like…you were talking…but there's no one here, sir."

"Of course there is." He gestured to his left, where Suki had been perched on the railing. "My wife. She won't _shut up_. If you don't mind—

"—N-not at all, sir. Sorry," the man, looking confused and a little frightened, backed slowly away.

_"Sokka, don't be stupid. You're the only who can see me."_

"I know," he whispered. "And it's not enough."

——

Why did the boat decide to sail past the one place he'd never wanted to return?

The land still seemed to smoke, even after a year. Long gray plumes, swirling up toward the dreary sky. Sokka was almost afraid that if he uncovered his nose, the smell of roasted flesh and charred wood would flood his nostrils. He couldn't take being sick again.

Nothing for him. Not there—not home. The ashen earth of Kyoshi offered him no safe ground.

He remembered returning again not long after learning the truth. The truth (or the small piece he knew of it) was enough to send him reeling…

——

"_Ya know you're the absolute greatest, right?"_

"_Of course, Meathead. And watch that," she adjusted the slipping glass in his hand._

"_Damn," his vision was blurring dangerously. "Suki would be royally pissed at me right now if she was 'ere. Not that's she's not royally pissed already," He took another swig, the toxic taste burning down his throat. "But what hell was she thinking, goin' behind my back like that? Rebels cause nothin' but trouble, and here I find out my own wife is the Spirit-damned leader of 'em."_

"_Uh-huh."_

"_And how come you're not as wasted as I am?"_

"_Because I stopped after my sixth drink. I think you're on your eleventh."_

"_Oh."_

_There was suddenly a man in army uniform at Toph's side, whispering in her ear. He vaguely heard her announce she'd be back, and then got up and walked with the man to a quieter corner of the bar. He struggled to focus his energy on staying seated on his chair._

"_C'mon." She suddenly hauled him up by the elbow and walked him none too gently out the door and through the dim streets._

"_H-hey, I didn't finish—"_

_They stopped abruptly in front of a small shop, closed for the night._

"_Sokka. Something's happened."_

_He frowned. "Whadya mean?"_

"_There's been…an accident."_

_His cloudy mind tripped up searching for the meaning behind those words. "You mean, somethin' bad? Someone hurt?"_

"_Yeah. Real bad. And…a lot of people hurt."_

_Something told him this wasn't a light matter. "Well, what's wrong?"_

_Toph sighed. Her unfocused eyes weren't on him, but somewhere to his right._

"_Sokka, it's Suki. There was a fire on Kyoshi."_

_He didn't remember what he said, but there was a lot of cursing and yelling and screaming, with Toph arguing right back._

"_No, it's not true, she's not dead!"_

"_Sokka, stop it!"_

"_I'll kill them! I'll kill who did this! And whoever watched them die and didn't move to help!"_

"_It was an accident! No one killed them; it was a misunderstanding! On a remote island, Sokka! By the time people knew they needed help, it was too late!"_

"_It was not! It was _planned_; someone wanted her dead, they knew about the rebellions! And they torched everyone else with her!"_

"_Of course it wasn't planned! The Dai Li wouldn't go—" Her eyes widened suddenly. "Never mind."_

"_No! …What?"_

"_Nothing, nothing."_

"_B-but…what about the Dai Li?"_

"_I didn't say anything."_

_He frowned. "You did. What does the Dai Li have to—"_

"—_This is the wrong time for this! Dammit, what was I _thinking_, telling you when you're not even _sober?!_" The last thing he saw was her kicking the ground._

_The next morning, he awoke and just lay there, studying the ceiling._

_A dream. All a dream. A horrible, horrible dream._

_He sat up in bed, rubbing his throbbing temples, and saw Toph across the room. Holding an unopened scroll with the military seal. Staring at him with the most miserable look he had ever seen in her blank eyes._

_——  
_

Time seemed to slow as the boat sailed around the island. He almost thought they would never pass. He wanted to go and sulk alone in his cabin, but his eyes seemed glued to the bare, black land.

"_Bastard. Thought he could sneak up on us. They planned to take us out, I know it. You know it too, Sokka. But I'm glad we struck first. We died with honor."_

He was so tired of voices in his head that were not his own.

"They say th' island's full o' ghosts." The Water Tribe warrior turned his head toward the sound of the voice. An elderly man scratched at his chin, leaning against the railing and keeping his eyes fixated ahead.

"Is that so?" Sokka couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "And I suppose they say that the rebel Warriors are still plotting against the Avatar, even a year later. I'll bet, if you go there, a vengeful spirit might latch onto you. Just imagine…being compelled, suddenly, to try and stop the Avatar and the Firelord!" He chuckled at how insane he sounded.

The old man, however, believed otherwise. "That's wh't they say," he mumbled. "The spirits of th' Warriors are th' reason there are so many are fightin' back these days—like those young'uns at Nanchu. Think about it: all non-benders…"

"_My girls would never do such a thing. The rebellions are happening because people are _not_ happy."_

Sokka nodded gently. "That's true…"

——

_And her nostrils flared as she demanded, "Why do you even care, Sokka?"_

_Care? __Why would she even ask that? "What the hell do you mean? You—you're…I can't even believe you're doing something like this!" He threw his hands up in exasperation. What else could he do, when he walked into the training halls and found them making plans against what he had worked for for seven years?_

_——  
_

Why did he hear her so clearly? Feel her so sharply? He knew she wasn't real. Just the part of his imagination, fueled by months without sleep and filled with depression, that wouldn't let go.

Wrinkled face frowning, the man snorted. "When spirits are angry, it's hard t' tell what they'd do."

"_What a load of bull. Don't you think so, Sokka?"_

And he felt warm hands travel down his back. Warm hands that he knew were not supposed to be warm. Closing his eyes (not there, never there, can't be there), he once again slipped into the world of his memories. Memories of his old life; it was much clearer than the one he led now.

——

"_What is this, Suki?"_

_Her eyes were full of fire. Fire that fueled the Kyoshi Warriors to see a plan to stop Aang's ambassadors from reaching the shores of the Water Tribes. _

"_Why would you plot against Aang? Against your friends?"_

"_You're too blind to see it, Sokka," she hissed. The other girls had left, scurrying out the doors as soon as he entered. The silence was almost eerie. "This is not peace; he's just spreading his power. He's uniting the world _under him_. How is that peace? How is it peace when he punishes those against him? When he forces them to do as he says? It doesn't—Sokka, do you really not see it? Have you not seen how they've _changed?_"_

_He shook his head, already out the door and headed to the docks. "_You're_ the one who's changed."_

_——  
_

He sighed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe that land _is_ haunted. …Maybe one of them latched to me, as well…"

…That was all he'd ever wanted.


End file.
